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Violet: 

A VAU DEVILLE. 


IN FOUR SCENES. 







Class J1S . b^S 



Book 





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iHotct 


A VAUDEVILLE. 

IN FOUR SCENES. 


Person/e. 


Violet Barron, 
Clara Post-Duncan, 
Euphemia Shirley, . 
Jane Nibs, 

Maggie, 

Sidney Dane, . 
Schuyler Van Cott, 
Charles Barron, 
Thomas, 


At at 30. 

A Society Swell. 

A Literary Light. 

A Spinster. 

Mrs. Barron's Maid. 
At at 35. 

Atat 40. 

Husband of Violet. 
Footman. 


Place— New York City. 
Time— February, 1886. 



























































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SCENE I. 


At an afternoon tea. Groups of women and girls—one group in 
foreground consisting of Mrs. Shirley, Mrs Duncan and 
Miss Nibs — all with cups in hands , standing together. 

Chorus. 

Ho! the Tea! the Tea! come drink it with me! 

While it cheers our hearts, it will quickly loose 
Our sharp little tongues, which can wag so free 
With sly little digs and abuse, profuse! 

One more cup of Tea, 

Come drink now with me! 

We’ll merciless be 
To her who scorns Tea. 

Miss Nibs. Yes, it must be true, for Mr. Congdon saw 
them drive up and go in. He stayed till late in the afternoon, 
and they had not gone when he left—and the proprietor said 
they had a room all to themselves. 

Mrs. Shirley. Well, it does not surprise me in the least— 
for at Narragansett, this Summer, they say his devotion was 
quite open and well known to every one. 

Mrs. Post-Duncan. Her drunken husband, her great 
beauty and charm of manner, all give a man like Dane every 
incentive, and I cannot half blame him. Of course there 
is no excuse for her, however. 

Miss Nibs. I don’t see, I must say, how you can call her 
a beauty! a demureness which passes for good breeding, per¬ 
haps; but examine her face! Not a single good feature! 

Mrs. Shirley. I really cannot agree with you there, my 
dear Jane; there certainly is a certain hot-house, showy beauty 


there, due entirely to her color; but for my part, I have never 
been able to see what there was attractive in her beyond that. 
She is [not at all well read; and, after all, that is the only 
standard to go by. 

Miss N. Besides, she has a way of gazing at you as if she 
did not see you, which I consider positively rude. I never 
wish to speak to her again. 

Enter Van Cott. 

V. C. How do you do, fair ladies ? Who is in the pillory 
to-day ? 

Mrs. Duncan. We were discussing your friend, Mrs. 
Barron. Have you heard ? 

V. C. Yes, I have heard. An outrageous story! Poor 
little woman. You know I have been a friend of hers for many 
years. Well, when the story was told last night at the club, I 
branded it at once as a maiicious lie; wrote to her for the 
facts—but before she had time to answer, started off to see her 
in person. I found her in great distress—in tears—tears of 
mortification and anger at- 

Miss N. ( interrupting ). Being found out? 

V. C. Nonsense! Pardon me. No, in bitter anger and 
tears, that fate and malicious tongues should have selected her 
for their subject. 

Mrs. Duncan. Ah! Schuyler, you consoled her, I am 
sure, as only you can. 

V. C. Thank you for your gratitude! But please, if possi¬ 
ble, speak seriously, all of you. All I could do was to tell her 
I knew it was a lie, promise that it should be traced to its 
source and stamped out, and above all, that I would find you 
good people here to-day and tell you the truth, so that I might 
have your aid in the good cause! 


5 


Mrs. S. A knight sans peur , indeed! But a task you’ve 
undertaken beyond that of any fairy champion I ever read of. 
And so you come to us to arm you, and advise ? Well, I fear 
you will not succeed, even with our help. 

Miss N. I flatly decline to enlist in any such quixotic 
attempt. Really, Mr. Van Cott, you are asking too much if 
you expect us to believe there is no ground for all the stories 
about your friend. 

V. C. Stories ? Slanders ! And who, of all of us, is free 
from the poison which exudes from the very pores of some 
reptiles in society. Get the facts beyond dispute before you 
condemn one of your own sisterhood. You do not know how 
soon you yourself may be shunned as if possessed of some hor¬ 
rid disease ! 

Miss N. I declare, sir ! 

Mrs. Duncan. Jane, he is right! And Schuyler, let me 
congratulate you on your eloquence. You have won the first 
skirmish, for you have persuaded me to come over to your 
side. 

Violet enters unobsewed. « 

Miss N. But not me ! I shall not speak to her * * * 

[Stops y seeing Violet, who , after speaking with the hostess , 
approaches the group.) 

V. C. [advancing to meet her). Oh ! Mrs. Barron. So even 
you cannot resist the insidious fascination of a cup of tea ! 

Violet. It is not only the tea that allures me here and fas¬ 
cinates me. 

Mrs. Duncan. Do not turn his head any further, Violet, it 
will be twisted off. 


6 


Mrs. S. It is Coleridge, I think, who says : 

“ He turns no more his head, 

Because he knows a frightful fiend 
Doth close behind him tread.” 

V. C. Well twisted, Mrs. Shirley. 

Miss Nibs. Mr. Van Cott has been very eloquent this 
afternoon singing your praises, my dear Violet, and now he is 
becoming heroic. Your influence over men is magical, my dear. 

Violet. In this case I hope it will do no harm, for he is a 
friend in need. 

V. C. Mrs. Barron ! ( deprecatingly ) ! 

Mrs. D. Violet, I would like you to dine with me quietly 
this evening. 

Violet (starting). What, dear Clara? 

(Goes to her in agitation). 

Miss Nibs (apart). Birds of a feather flock together. 

Mrs. S. Jane, let us go. This convinces me of the truth 
of the old Indian saying that when a bad act is once started, it 
takes all the wisdom of Buddha to avoid its pathway. We must 
not allow our minds to become receptive in this case. By a pro¬ 
cess of mental exclusion * * * 

Miss Nibs. Excuse me, Mrs. Shirley, but “ mental ex¬ 
clusion ” implies having a mind. 

Mrs. S. Well ? 

V. C. Ladies, this conversation is getting to be altogether 
too serious for a tea. You should each write a treatise on the 
subject and compare notes at the next meeting of the Thursday 
Night Club. 

Mrs. Duncan. Pray tell me,Violet, where is “ Sidney, warbler 
of poetic prose.” 


7 


Violet. In town, but where I do not know. But I must go. 
Thank you once more, dear Clara. Don’t fail me this evening 
—and (to the others ) if you have no other engagement it will 
give me great pleasure to have you listen to a young singer 
who hopes to appear next season, and who will give us, this 
evening, a foretaste of his powers. 

Mrs. S. I have to be at the Nineteenth Century Club this 
evening, but after Dr. McCosh and Prof. Elliott have ex¬ 
hausted themselves, I will come to your singing with pleasure. 

Miss Nibs. And I also, my dear Violet, if I have nothing 
else to do. 

V. C. May I take you to your carriage ? 

Violet. Yes, if you will ; I wish to speak to you. (The 
others , after bidding good-night, move away.) Schuyler, 
where are your eyes ? Do you not see that Mrs. Duncan is 
taking a great interest in you ? 

V. C. Great Heavens ! No ! Absurd ! Nonsense ! \Exeunt , 

Chorus. 

We are all of us ladies of fashion you see— 

Oh, who so maliciously glad as we, 

True slaves of a much-abused passion, te! he! 

For very small talk, and afternoon Tea! 

Then one more cup of Tea, 

Come, drink now with me! 

Here’s a health to that She, 

Or that He, who loves Tea! 


8 


SCENE II. 

Drawing-room at Mrs. Barron’s. Violet sitting before the 
fire with a sad expression. Mr. B. walking restlessly up 
and down the room. Then stopping suddenly and speaking 
vehemently. 

Mr. B. So ! You’ve done it this time, haven’t you ? 
{Pause.) Have you nothing to say for yourself ? 

Violet {quietly). Done what, Charles? 

Mr. B. Done what ! Put the keystone to the arch of mis¬ 
conduct, which you have been erecting for the past five years! 

Violet. Your speech lacks lucidity, Charles, but as you 
evidently intend to be severe, I will ask you to explain your 
meaning ? 

Mr. B. You are the talk of the town, and you know it. It 
seems you went driving with Sidney Dane yesterday, and 
stopped all the afternoon at some out-of-the-way hotel. 

Violet {rising). Charles, you have lost all right to ask me 
any question as to my conduct. Night after night you come 
home intoxicated. Long since I have ceased to entreat you 
to put a stop to your shameful behavior. You leave me to do 
as I choose. You refuse to go into society with me, and if 
anyone else, pitying my lonely life, tries to give me a little 
innocent pleasure, you f you find fault, and believe me capable 
of the extremest bad taste. It is a Jiard blow to my pride to 
have anyone, even you, think I would be so vulgar. Your 
belief in the story does not surprise me, as you have lost all 
sense of decency ; but while claiming that I would be justified 
in doing anything , I will say to you that the only foundation 
for the slander is that I did take a drive with Mr. Dane—not 
yesterday, however, and not alone, but with a party of four. 


9 


Mr. B. Where there is smoke there must be some fire. 

Violet. Enough! Believe what you will. The slander 
will work however slight the basis for it. I saw this afternoon 
the effect of it on some of my most intimate friends, though they 
did not speak of it. Oh! what a comfort it is to come home 
to a sympathetic friend instead of wasting one’s nervous tis¬ 
sues on innuendoes and covert sneers. 

Enter footman. 

Thomas. Madame is served. \Exeunt. 

Enter Maggie. 

Maggie. At it again. Well, I don’t want to be a fine lady 
if that’s the kind of life I’d have to lead. It is bad enough to 
have a drunken husband, but to have him always finding fault 
to boot! No, I never want to be like Missus. But she is a 
kind one, although the most wretchedest woman ever was. 

Re-enter Thomas. 

Thomas. Oh! Maggie, dear, I’m glad to see you alone 
for a minute. That ugly-mugged Richards, thinks because he 
can drive horses, he can drive me away. But I’ll show him he 
can’t, eh, Maggie ! You’ll not let him be sparking you, dear, 
for * * * 

Enter Mr. B., hastily. 

Mr. B. Heh ! What, Thomas! Come, none of that. 
Get me my hat and coat. Quick ! I’ll not dine here. (Exit 
Thomas.) Maggie here’s something for you. Now, I want 
you to see who comes here this evening, and let me know 
what happens. Do you understand ? 

Maggie. Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. [Exit Mr. B. 

Maggie. The mean creature to try to spy on his pretty 
wife—well, ten dollars is not to be picked up every day, and 
I’ll just tell missus and she will know what to do. Heigho ! 
What with these troubles up-stairs and Richards and Thomas 


IO 


quarrelling over me down stairs, I don’t know what will be¬ 
come of me. Now, Thomas is a beautiful man—such a figure, 
such calves, and such whiskers; but Richards has been get¬ 
ting big wages for a good many years, and he is careful—too 
careful, I think—for he never gives me the pretty things that 
Thomas does- 

Enter Thomas. 

Here he is again—I’ll run away and try to make up my 
mind (going). 

Thomas. Hist! Maggie ! Stay, my charmer, stay. Let 
me once more- 

Maggie. No, I must go down. If Missus should catch us 
as Mr. B. did, she would not be so easy on us. 

Thomas. Master’s a prince ! Maggie I have a secret that I 
want to share with you. Do you see that? Twenty dollars ? 
What for, do you suppose ? 

Maggie. Pah ! I can guess. 

Thomas. You can’t —I’ll give it to you if you do. 

Maggie. It’s mine then—you are to spy on the Missus ! 

Thomas. Right! Here, take it. You’re a witch—the pretti¬ 
est, wisest little witch in the world, and if you don’t promise 
me right here—now—to have me, I’ll—I’ll—oh ! Maggie, 
Maggie, my bounding heart will burst its bounds and nought 
be left but groaning sounds. 

Maggie. Get up off your knees, you silly boy, you’ll spoil 
your stockings and Missus will come. 

Thomas. Let her come. I’ll not get up till I get your 
promise—I’ll stay 

’Till peep of doom 
In this here room 
On bended knee, 

For love of thee! 



II 


Maggie. You know how I love your poetry, Thomas, and 
your figure too—so there—get up ! ( turning towards him 
her cheek). Quick ! I hear some one ! 

(Thomas jumping up and kissing her.) 

Maggie and Thomas. 

Duet. 

He. 

Ha ! that’s the kind for me, 

A girl that’s not too free 
With any one but me. 

She. 

And youre my Bo-Ideel, 

But so queer I now do feel, 

Perhaps it was not real. 

He. 

What? the kiss? [kisses her again.) 

She. 

Yes ! oh, bliss ! 

Together. 

Oh ! now we’ll be happy together, 

Nor care for wind or weather, 

Oh, we’ll be gay 
The live long day, 

Oh, we’ll be happy together. [ Exeunt , dancing. 


12 


SCENE III. 
Same. 


Enter Mrs. B., ushered in by Thomas. 


Violet. Thomas, I want no dinner. You can take every¬ 
thing away and then bring my coffee here. 

Thomas. Yes, Madam. 

Violet. And, Thomas ! Tell Maggie I wish to see her in 
half an hour. 


Exit Thomas. 

Song. 

Why should I here remain 
Filled with unceasing pain, 
Bright happy thoughts again 
Striving to raise—in vain ! 
Why ? Why ? 

Help me, ye gods of old, 

Send me some knight so bold, 
Who, when my story’s told, 
Will me in strong arms fold 
Until I die ! 


[Minor key.) 


( Crescendo.) 


(. Diminuendo .) 


Sweet dreams of days gone by, 
Why do you mock me ? Why ? 
Nought now beneath the sky 
Whispers of hope ! Ah ! Why ? 
Why ? Why ? 


*3 


Enter Dane. 

V iolet turns towards the door with a half-suppressed exclama¬ 
tion of wonder and pleasure . Dane advances slowly across 
the room to the fire-place , takes Violet’s hand without a 
wordy bows over it and presses his lips on it. Violet looks 
at him steadily for a moment. 

Violet (with emotion). Sidney, what mysterious influence 
brings you here at this moment as if at my unspoken call ? 

Sidney. Oh ! Not unspoken ! I was walking in the park 
under the stars, in Waldeinsamkeit, that communion with 
Nature undisturbed by man, which brings the fine inhuman 
essences to the surface, when some breath or spirit of unac¬ 
countable forces swayed my movements towards you without 
my reason taking part. As one in a dream I walked, some¬ 
times stopping with a struggle to regain consciousness, but in 
vain. The mysterious influence you speak of held me, and— 
I am here—here, Violet—here where I would gladly sigh my 
life away. Here at your feet!—to beseech you not to be 
worried by the venomous tongues of this miserable world of 
ours—to assure you that nothing shall be left undone to stop 
the spreading of the story—and to entreat you to forgive me 
for being the cause of it all. 

Violet. It was no fault of yours. Mine—if any fault 
there was. 

Sidney. Yours ! You are not capable of a fault! or— 
but one , and that I dare not mention. 

Violet. Oh, Sidney, it would be better that you should see 
me no more. Tongues will utter lies, and however correct 
may be our conduct, envious hearts will misconstrue our 
friendship. Even now, this evening, I have had bitter words 
with my husband about you, and I tremble to think what he 
may do in some moment of frenzy. 


14 


Sidney. Do you mean that you fear personal violence ? 

Violet. Not for myself—no ! no ! but for you. Wretched 
man that he is. He has at last driven me to realize that I am 

not only unhappy, that I do not care for him, but that I do - 

(.Breaks down — tears .) 

Sidney. Violet, what has happened ? Why these tears ? 
Why are you so troubled—you who have borne your burden 
until now so proudly—so cheerfully ? Great God ! what a 
mockery is this life ! Oh ! I have watched your increasing 
despondency. While all the world has said what a brave front 
she bears, I have seen the clouds darkening about you and 
wondered only that no lightning flash e’er came—and has it 
come? Tell me, Violet! You are silent. But your sobs 
tell me all. You—tied to a man who does not know you, and 
whom you cannot but despise,—and I—kneeling here— 
powerless—though Heaven knows how willing, how glad to 
lay down my life for your slightest wish! Think, Violet, of 
the years of my devotion. Oh, would you but believe it! 
Would you but let me be to you everything in the world ! 
Would you but say “ I love you ! ” 

Violet. Sidney, Sidney! Say no more. You know not 
what you do! 

Sidney. I must speak, Violet! Every throb of my heart 
beats for you ! Every nerve in my body vibrates to your 
voice and touch ! Every thought, every instinct, knows only 
you, its queen ! Let me stay here ! Let me tell you all my 
love for you, and live for you alone: Come to me, darling ! 

As he kneels before her she has put her hands on his shoulders , 
gazing in his eyes. Then , as he approaches her face with 
his , she suddenly throws her arms about his neck. He clasps 
her to his breast , and , face to face, they embrace in silence. 



i5 


Violet (sighing). Sidney, I am doing wrong, and I know 
it. But I can bear my sorrows alone no longer. Without you 
I cannot live, for you are all in all to me. Take me, dear. 
Do with me as you will. I am all yours. I love you. 

Sidney. My life, my love ! 

(Embraces her deliriously.) 

Duet. 

Dane. 

Sunshine glows and warms my being, 

Coming from your touch and glances; 

Trembles every nerve with pleasure, 

And jour lips my soul entrances. 

Violet. 

Hold me close and seal my eyelids 
With your loving, warm caresses, 

Let me, losing self completely, 

Banish fear my heart oppresses. 


Dane. 

Hence, my queen, I’ll bear you with me 
To some southern fairy isle, 

Where, beneath the oleanders, 

We’ll with love the days beguile. 

And if e’er a wish you whisper, 

On the moment I’ll command it, 
Seeking daily some new pleasures, 
Hoping daily you’ll demand it. 


Violet. 

Hold me, darling, closer, closer, 
Place your lips on mine, my dear. 


i6 


Dane. 

Heavens! now no earthly power 
Shall from your eyes force a tear. 

Both. 

Closer yet! and yet still closer; 

Banish hence all care and fear. 

At end of duet Violet sinks into a chair in front of the fireplace 
and Sidney passes quickly out of the room. As the front 
door closes, enter Thomas with coffee, Maggie following 
him. 

Thomas (in a whisper). Maggie, think of us so jolly happy, 
and our Missus sitting there like the ruins of Marius. I 
wish we could do something for her. 

Maggie ( whispering ). It makes me wretched. 

Thomas, advancing, places small table at Mrs. Barron's side, 
puts coffee cup on the table and retires softly. 

Maggie. Madame ! 

Violet (dreamingly). What is it ? 

Maggie. Oh, Madame, do take your coffee. We think it 

will cheer you up a bit ! That is, I think so, and, and- 

Violet. Why, child, what ails you ? 

Maggie. Nothing ails me, ma'am. I’m very happy, but we 

were wishing you could be happy too- 

Violet. We ? What do you mean by we? 

Mag. Thomas and me, ma’am (blushing). 

Violet. Take care, girl—take care! Thomas ! (severely) 
Thomas. Well, ma’am, the truth is I and Richards have 
been a courtin’ Maggie for a long time, and to-day the reful¬ 
gence of her affections crowned my heart. 

Violet. She has promised to marry you? 



i7 


Maggie. Yes, ma’am. You see, though Richards had more 
money, I could not resist Thomas. He has such a handsome 
face and figure, and he is so poetical {proudly). 

Thomas. And she’s the best and brightest star of all the 
costermongery of the world. She’s a progeny. 

Violet. Well, well, I will talk to you some other time, 
Maggie. I hope you will both be happy. 

Thomas [aside). You see, she is not angry. I’ll tell her. 
(Aloud) Madam, I think I ought to tell you something if 
you’ll please excuse us, ma’am, but it weighs on my raptures 
like Pelion on Ossa, and I must relieve it. 

Violet (turning back to the fire). Go on. 

Thomas. Well, madam. * * * 

Maggie. Let me tell her. 

Thos. No, no. I will. Well, madam, to make a long 
story short, Maggie and I have both been told by Mr. Barron 
to report every thing that takes place in this here house this 
evening, and we won’t do it. There ! 

Violet (imperiously and rising). That will do. ( Then 
gently) But no, I thank you, for I know you mean well—and 
be sure, I will not forget you. 

Mrs. B. 

Be you happy while you may, 

And at a not distant day 

For your wedding I’ll arrange, 

Unless, you your minds should change. 

Thos. 

Thank you kindly, Madam Barron, 

Maggie knows I love for aye. 

Nothing now can stop our wedding, 

Do, I pray you, name the day. 


Mag. 


Stop a moment—we’ll consider 
Something first—the ways and means ; 

/know we can’t live on nothing, 

Though I’m only in my teens. 

Mrs. B. Fear not, child, I will not fail you. 

Mag. For those words, madame, I bless you ; 

And shouldTom or I forget them- 

Thos. Maggie, wait till I possess you. 

Ensemble. 

T. and M. and Mrs. B. 

j We’ll S be ha PPy while { r } ma y> 

And at a not distant day 

Wedding bells for j j- shall sound, 

Gladd’ning -j j- and all around. 

[Exeunt.] 


19 


SCENE IV. 

Same. 

Violet, Mrs. Edwards, Duncan, Nibs and others—a young 
man has just turned from the piano towards the ladies who 
award him a soft applause. 

Enter Van Cott. 

V. C. Pardon me for being so late Mrs. Barron, but it was 
on service de la Reine. I can speak before all of you plainty, 
for you all know what I mean and behold ( holding up a paper). 
I triumph ! 

Mrs. Duncan. Well done, Schuyler ! Read it. 

Violet. No, I beg of you- 

V. C. It is for you to command—but at least you will let 
me say that I have traced step by step the malicious rumors 
about you. 

Miss Nibs. Why, malicious, Mr. Van Cott! 

V. C. Well, the falsehood then. From each successive per¬ 
son I forced the name of the next, and it was, indeed, no easy 
task in some instances to get an admission from the embroider¬ 
ers. But by threats and promises, bringing fathers, mothers 
and brothers to help me, I finally reached the starting point 
and forced from that coward Congdon under threat of a horse¬ 
whipping a written statement of the origin of it all, and it only 
shows what an idle word by a married man to his wife may do. 

Mrs. Shirley. The old saying: 

“ O, many a shaft at random sent 
Finds mark the archer never meant.” 

Mrs. Duncan. Violet, you owe Schuyler thanks. 

V. C. None; but to you who alone stood by her. 




20 

Miss Nibs. Clara, dear Mr. Van Cott is proving to be 
the flower of knighthood, is he not ? 

(They all rise to go.) 

Violet. Are you going all ? Good night. Thank you for 
coming * * * 

Ertter Dane with great excitement and walking directly to 
Violet. 

Sidney ( taking her aside). Prepare yourself, dear Violet 
for a dreadful blow. 

Violet (agitated). What—is—it? 

Sidney (impatiently to others). Pardon me, but without cere¬ 
mony please go ! I wish to speak in private with Mrs. Barron. 

Miss Nibs (aside). Evidently, and not for the first time. 

Mrs. Shirley. Really, Mr. Dane, you are quite dramatic 
and excite our curiosity. We were just now in a beatific state 
of tenderness. Tell us your news before we go. 

Sidney ( with anger). Well, I will. I m just from the club, 
where I saw—the result of an apopletic stroke—Mr. Barron, 
dead ! 

(Smothered cries. All depart except Violet, who sinks into a 
chair , and Sidney who gently approaches her side and kneels.) 

Sidney. Violet! The fates have willed it ! 

Violet. The fates ! Ah, they will pursue us ever. 

Sidney. Never ! I defy them ! Believe it not. 

Violet. Leave me ! I beg you! 

(He rises slowly—goes to doorway , turns with beseeching look to¬ 
wards her. She raises herself slightly and calls softly -) 

Violet. Sidney! 


Curtain. 




























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